


Arkag (Orc)

by TheTravelerWrites



Series: Shelter Forest: The Towns [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Exophilia, M/M, Missing Limb, Orc, PSTD, Reader Insert, male reader - Freeform, orc boyfriend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:57:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22117348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTravelerWrites/pseuds/TheTravelerWrites
Summary: A young man encounters a mysterious, secretive orc who lives on the outskirts of his village. During a sudden storm, the orc has a violent flashback to the day he lost his arm, and the reader helps him cope. Please leave feedback!
Relationships: Male Human/Male Orc
Series: Shelter Forest: The Towns [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1578637
Comments: 16
Kudos: 80





	1. Chapter 1

There was a bit of a legend in your town about the woodcutter that lived outside the village borders. He’d lived there since before you moved to the village and he was an orc, that much you knew, but there was precious little else anyone could tell you that wasn’t speculation or rumors.

Some said he was a war criminal who’d committed heinous crimes and was cast out of his stronghold. Some said he was being hunted for desertion by his clan. Some said he was a smuggler who was using his work in the village as a front. A few folks wanted to run him out of town for fear that he’d bring the wrath of whatever he was escaping from down on townspeople’s heads, though he was so large that few people seemed to be willing to follow through. Besides, he didn’t technically live_ in town_, so it wasn’t as if he was really bothering anyone.

All you knew was that he supplied the town with firewood, which he would drop off on every person’s doorsteps in the dead of night when most people were sleeping. He had a dislike for people or being seen, so he did most of his work when it was dark and he could be alone.

The most unusual thing about him was something you’d seen with your own eyes but no one had mentioned: he only had one arm.

You had gotten up one night when you were ill with food poisoning and gone out to get sick at the edge of the field near your house. During a brief respite, while you were gasping for air, you saw the figure of the orc step silently out of the woods on the footpath, the hand cart he pulled behind him as quiet as he was. You watched in the dim light of the moon as he stopped at your door, let go of the hand cart, picked up a bundle of wood wrapped in twine, dropped it on your doorstep, and continued on his way. All one handed.

His entire left arm was missing and the left sleeve of his tunic was sewn shut unevenly. His ill-fitting clothes were plain and worn, likely the cheapest he could buy if he hadn’t scavenged them from somewhere. It hurt your pride a little as a tailor to see him wearing such rags. He wasn’t wearing a coat either, despite the chill of the autumn night, and his boots looked pretty beat up.

He was as big as everyone said he was, though he looked thinner than you expected, almost lanky. His hair was cut short, rough and jagged, looking as though he’d done it himself somehow, but you couldn’t determine its color in this light. 

You’d almost forgotten that you were sick for a few minutes as you watched from the shadows as he made his way down the block and dropped off the wood at each door. Did he get paid for this service? You’d never paid him before, and most people in town were terrified of him, so you didn’t think they went out of their way to make sure he got his due for the work. Did he do it for free? Why?

After a moment of watching and pondering, your body abruptly remembered that it had eaten some bad eggs and you hurled what was left in your stomach into the brush. You tried to be quiet about it, but it’s hard to make a distressed belly obey or mask the wet splashing of sick in the dewy grass. The force and pressure of heaving actually caused you to black out.

When you awoke, you were inside your home, lying on your bed, and you saw someone moving around in the dark.

“Who’s there?” You croaked roughly, your throat raw from vomiting.

“Don’t worry, I’m leaving,” A deep male voice responded. A cup of water was pressed into your hand. “Drink this. I saw you pass out. Sick as you are, you’d likely have caught a killing fever if I left you there.”

You took a sip dutifully. A match was struck and a candle lit near the door, illuminating the face of the thin orc woodcutter.

“Oh, it’s you,” You said.

“Yeah. It’s me,” He replied flatly. “I’ll be out of your hair in a minute.” He raked up the coals in the fireplace of your room and threw in a few logs, bringing the fire back to life. In this light, you could see his hair was a soft brown color, and his eyes matched. His skin wasn’t green, like most orcs you’d seen, but an dark red ochre color. You tried hard not to stare at his missing arm.

“Thank you,” you rasped, taking another cautious sip of water. “What’s your name?”

“Arkag,” He said. “Not that it matters. We likely won’t speak again.”

“Why not?” You asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” He said. “I need to go soon. I have to finish the deliveries before sun up.”

“Why?”

“I make people nervous,” He said simply. “It’s best if no one sees me.”

“I see…” You said sadly. He sounded detached and resigned. You felt terrible for him and had to wonder what led him to living such a solitary life. You were almost certain it had to do with his arm, but you couldn’t dig up the courage to ask him about it. “Well, let me repay you for your kindness.”

“No need,” He said.

“Really, I insist. I’m a tanner and a tailor. I could make you a coat! You need one; it’s going to get colder soo--”

“No!” Arkag shouted. “I don’t need your charity and I’m not looking to make friends. Don’t make me regret helping you.” He stalked out of your room and to the front door and left without another word.

You grimaced and grumbled. You didn’t care what he’d said. This wasn’t about charity; it was entirely possible that he saved your life. A coat was the least you could do to repay him.

Once you’d recovered from your illness, you hired a hunter to bring you back as big a pelt as they could find. You knew you’d need a big animal to clothe Arkag and you wanted it to be all one piece. Nothing you had currently in your stock was adequate.

It took you more than two months to tan the leather, and then another two weeks to waterproof it. Sewing the coat took less a few days. By the time the coat was finished, it was well into winter and the snowfall was getting heavy. You wished you’d had the chance to start this project this sooner. Either way, it was done, and you went out during the day to find Arkag’s house.

You followed the beaten footpath deep into the forest and eventually found a small cottage in a circular clearing. The cottage seemed to be a single well-built room made of grey stone thatched with dry reeds and clay. It had a small garden in the front, though it was mostly empty currently, save for a few winter vegetables. You didn’t see him anywhere, and there was no smoke in the chimney, so you assumed he was out working. You left the coat, folded and wrapped in waxed parchment, on the stoop of his front door and left.

That night in the early hours, you were awoken by a loud banging on your door.

“Open up!” You heard Arkag growl.

Aggravated, you wrapped your blanket around you and went and flung the front door open.

“And what time do you call this?” You snapped.

Arkag had the coat clutched in his fist and threw it at you. “I told you I didn’t want your charity!”

“It’s not charity!” You yelled back. “I wanted to make it! I’m just repaying you for helping me!”

“I don’t want anything from you! I don’t want anything from anyone! Leave me alone!” He spun and stomped off.

You huffed and slammed your door. Months of careful work gone to waste because of one stubborn ass. The coat had been made for Arkag and it wouldn’t fit anyone else. You sighed forcefully and put the coat back on the body form.

The next day you went out to hunt. You could catch small game just fine; anything bigger than a deer, though, and you usually either went with a party or hired a more experienced hunter. You were low on meat and thought a small boar would last you a good month or so, if you dried and salted it properly. Plus, you wanted to make yourself some new soft boots for spring.

As you shrugged on your quiver, Arkag’s coat caught your eye. On impulse, you snatched it from the body form and folded it, stowing it in your satchel. You weren’t sure why you did, but maybe you could talk some sense into that block-headed orc.

A few hours tracking had produced nothing, and you were wondering if you shouldn’t just settled for a few rabbits when you felt the air electrify and the small hairs on your neck stand on end. Looking up, you saw that the clouds were darkening and decided to give up the hunt for today. A storm was coming.

You heard thunder in the distance and you hastened your steps. Thunder and lightning during snow storms was unusual, especially in the middle of winter. You had a feeling this one would be bad.

Just as you were coming to the place where the trees opened up a bit, you heard the crack of lightning hitting a tree, startling you. What startled you even more was the blood-curdling scream that followed. You broke into a run and followed the sound with your heart in your throat.

The snow was falling as you stumbled into the clearing that housed Arkag’s cottage. Arkag was on his knees next to his chopping block, an axe lying nearby, wailing as though he were in pain, though you couldn’t immediately see any wound. There was a smoldering tree nearby that must have been struck by the bolt.

“Arkag!” You shouted, running to him. “Arkag! Are you alright?”

“My arm!” He cried. “My arm!”

You looked at his right arm and inspected it frantically for injuries. “It’s alright! You’re arm’s fine! Arkag, you’re fine!”

“My arm! Oh gods, my arm!”

“Arkag, you’re arm isn’t hurt! You’re--” You realized then that his right hand was grasping for his missing left arm. Arkag was shaking violently and sobbing, his eyes wide and unseeing. You wanted to help him, but you weren’t sure what you could do. You were leery of touching him, concerned you would make it worse or that he’d lash out.

The only thing you could think of was the coat. He was only wearing his beat up boots, ill-fitting trousers, and the messily sewn tunic. Perhaps orcs had a higher cold tolerance than humans, but he still had to be feeling this weather. Shaking your head, you took out the coat and lay it over his shoulders carefully, trying not to jostle or alarm him.

The thunder continued to roll and the snow continued to fall as you knelt next to Arkag, keeping watch over him until this… flashback, you guessed, passed. Slowly, ever so slowly, Arkag seemed to come back to himself as the snow collected on both of you. This close, you could see that one of his tusks was cracked down the middle and rather grey in color compared to its twin, which was the normal yellow-white.

“Arkag,” You said softly. “We need to get inside before we freeze. The snow is going to get worse and it’ll be dark soon.”

Arkag blinked rapidly and wiped his face. He’d stopped crying but was still shivering. “Go ahead,” Arkag said in a low, brusque tone. “You can make fun of me now.”

Your head rocked back. “Why on earth would I make fun of you?”

He scoffed. “Forget it,” Arkag growled, attempting to stand but stumbling.

You rushed to catch him. “Here, let me--”

Arkag pushed you away, and you fell backward on your butt.

“What was that for?” You asked indignantly.

“I didn’t ask for your help,” Arkag said, falling back to a knee. “Leave me alone.”

“Would you stop being stubborn?” You said, shoving yourself to a standing position and taking his arm. “Do you want to freeze?”

“I don’t care!” He shouted at you.

You rolled your eyes. “Stop being dramatic and let me help you, you idiot!”

He attempted to shake you, but the episode had left him weakened. After a moment of trying to fend you off, you eventually got him to his feet and steered him toward his cottage.

Inside was simple and undecorated. There was a fire pit in the center of the single room that was lit, over which was a spit and a grate where a kettle or pan could be placed. There was no bed; instead there was a padded mat covered in furs that he likely slept on. There was a cabinet with jars of food, shelves with random knick-knacks, and a table with a single chair.

Strangely, though there wasn’t much actually in the cottage, it was very cluttered. There were various bones from previous meals thrown into a corner. There was an open trunk with clothes spilling out of it, both washed and unwashed. There were dirty dishes in a basin. The floor was unswept and straw-strewn. You got the feeling that he wasn’t necessarily a slob, he just didn’t care to pick up after himself.

You led him to the chair and he fell heavily into it.

“Where’s your kettle?” You asked.

He pointed at the basin and you went over, finding the kettle underneath a wash cloth. It was rusted and beat up, but it seemed mostly clean. You filled it with water from a barrel near the table and set the kettle on the grate over the fire. You found a clean mug and a canister with tea leaves.

“I don’t want tea,” He said churlishly. “I want ale. Or whiskey.”

“You need tea,” You replied firmly. “We need to raise your body temperature. It’s your own fault for gallivanting around without a coat.”

“Alcohol warms me better,” He grumbled.

“That’s actually a myth,” You told him as you warmed your hands by the fire, waiting for the water to boil. “Alcohol doesn’t make you warmer, it just makes you feel like you are. You’re more likely to freeze to death because you feel like you’ve warmed up when you really haven’t.”

“Still want it,” Arkag said sourly.

“Drink the tea first, then we’ll see,” You said sternly. You stole furtive glances at him as you bustled around his small cottage, getting tea ready. At first, he simply sat there, staring at nothing, though over time, he looked down at the coat, touching it tentatively.

“You really made this?” He asked.

“Sure did,” You replied. “Took me two months to tan that moose skin.”

“Huh,” He hummed. “I used to be able to do things like this. Well, not this; I couldn’t sew even when I had both arms. But I did a bit of skinning and tanning back in my day.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked neutrally.

“Not particularly,” He said.

You sifted some tea leaves into his mug and poured the water in, letting it steep for a moment before pushing the mug over to him and leaning against the wall.

“What about today? What happened today?”

Arkag stared at the mug distantly, wrapping his large hand around it to warm his fingers.

“The sound,” He whispered. “The sound of the tree cracking and snapping. It brought me right back to the day… this…” He waved vaguely at the missing arm. “The day this happened. My body locked up and I couldn’t move. I barely remember most of it. I heard your voice… but from far away. And I couldn’t see you. Why were you even here? The coat?”

“No, I heard you screaming.”

He looked up at you. “Was I screaming?”

You frowned in concern. “Does this happen often?”

“Not anymore,” He replied. “It did when I was younger. It’s why I left in the first place. I was mocked relentlessly by the clan. They didn’t understand that I couldn’t control it.” He took a large gulp of his tea and grimaced at the bitterness of it. “I’ve been alright for awhile now, but… the lightning… when it hit the tree… the sound it made… it just… caught me off guard, I guess.”

“I understand,” You said. “It scared you. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

He huffed a mirthless laugh. “You don’t know much about orcs, then.”

You laughed, too. “I’m afraid I don’t. I’ve hunted with a few, and I’ve had a couple in my shop, but I’ve never had an actual conversation with one.”

“Not surprising,” Arkag said. “Orcs keep to themselves. We’re a rowdy bunch, but only in places we feel comfortable, and that’s usually around other orcs. Outside of strongholds, we tend to be tight lipped and reserved. They teach us to be cautious around outsiders.”

“Aren’t you an outsider now?”

He shrugged. “Technically. If I wanted to, I could go back. But I don’t want to. I’m comfortable being alone.”

“Are you?” You asked, folding your arms.

He looked up and squinted at you, but didn’t answer.

A strange, heavy silence fell, and you looked out of the window that was next to your head. The thunder and lightning had ceased, but the storm was still in full swing. The snow was falling heavily and the wind was picking up. It was also getting dark.

“Well,” You said with a sigh. “If you’re alright, I should get going. If I don’t go now, I won’t get home before nightfall, and I don’t want to get stuck in this weather after dark.”

Arkag cleared his throat, but when you looked at him, he didn’t say anything.

“Yes?”

“Well…” He said slowly. “It’s… late. I suppose it’s safer for you to stay here until morning, at least. I don’t have much to offer, though.” He waved vaguely around the cottage.

“Oh,” You said in surprise. “Thanks. I don’t need much, just a space on the floor to sleep. As long as we keep the fire up, I’ll be plenty comfortable.” You eyed him. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” He said, not meeting your eye. “You… you did help me. And you made me this nice coat.” He brushed a hand over the leather. “This is moose, you said? Awfully soft for moose.”

“I have a special ingredient for tougher leathers,” You told him. “Softens it but the material stays strong and lasts years. Take care of that coat and it’ll last a good decade and a half, at least.”

He seemed impressed. “Not bad.” He looked up at you, then away. “Thanks. For the coat. And… for not being an ass about… you know… earlier.”

“Are you really going to accept the coat?” You asked.

He sneered at you. “You want it back?”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant!” You said. “I meant…” You shrugged lamely, shaking your head.“‘You’re welcome’.”

“Good,” He said, and you swore you almost saw a smile.

He offered you some dried meat and a jar of preserves for dinner, and the both of you turned in. You laid out your coat and rested your head on your satchel on the other end of the cottage while Arkag settled on his mat, using his new coat as a blanket.

You were comfortable but restless, thinking back on Arkag’s wild, terrified eyes and the anguished screaming. What could have caused such fear in him? What had he gone through that made him leave his clan and family behind? How long ago had it been? How long had he been dealing with it alone?

You watched him toss and turn in his sleep, mumbling and groaning. You wondered what dreams were visiting him, if he was reliving his personal nightmare right now. If they haunted him every night. If there was anything that gave him comfort. Looking around his cottage, you didn’t see anything particularly comforting.

With your thoughts in a roil, you turned over and eventually fell into an uneasy sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting completely snowed in, the Arkag and the reader have to do whatever's necessary to stave off freezing to death.

Arkag woke with a shout, which in turn startled you from sleep.

“Are you alright?” You asked him, your heart hammering from the sudden rude awakening.

He hid his eyes and was a moment in replying. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” He looked up and squinted at you and then out of the window. “Shit.”

The snow had stopped falling, but it was well up over the windows. Unless you somehow managed to get up on the roof, there would be no leaving the hut until it had melted. How long that would take, you didn’t know. What you did know was that Arkag had very little food, made even less by you being there.

Dammit. You hadn’t meant to inconvenience him any further, but it looked like you were stuck here.

“Um, I’m sorry for imposing,” You told him. “I didn’t mean to get trapped here.”

Arkag grunted in reply, scrubbing his face of the sleep dimples on the side of his cheek. He got up from under the coat and reached over to throw a few more logs onto the fire, raking the coals back to life.

“Did you have a nightmare?” You asked him.

He grunted again and looked away.

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” You said. “Nightmares are normal--”

“Don’t,” He snapped. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You clamped your lips shut and turned to your pack, busying yourself with the things inside to seem nonchalant.

“Sorry,” Arkag said in a moment of uncharacteristic attrition. “I’m not used to people being… well, I’m not used to people at all, I guess.”

“How long have you lived alone out here?” You asked him. “When was the last time you had a proper conversation?”

He sighed. “I’ve been here for seven years. About the only thing I was useful for was chopping trees and cutting up firewood, and I was selling it on the roadside. Pathetic, right? Even a sprout can cut firewood. The town council took pity on me and set me up out here, supplying the town. Gave me this old cottage and pay me three gold a month.”

“Where do you get your supplies from?” You asked curiously. “I’ve never seen you at market.”

He grimaced. “I don’t go to the market in town. I’ve got some friends who have a farm in the woods. I go there when I want to buy or trade. They’re good, non-judging folks.”

“Oh,” You replied. You eyed his ill-fitting garb. “Is that where you get your clothes?”

He looked down and plucked at the cloth lightly. “No… I just… sort of take whatever I can find.”

“I could make you a few things,” You offered.

“No…” Arkag said vaguely, looking away from you. “Don’t… you don’t have to… do that…”

“I don’t mind at all,” You said brightly. “You’re sheltering me from the storm and I may end up being here for a while. The least I can do is make you a few sets that won’t fall apart on you. Your clothes are clearly not suited to your profession. Another month, and they’d be coming apart at the seams.”

“I’m just paying you back for the coat,” He said, brushing a hand across it.

“But that was repayment for helping me when I was sick,” You countered. “If we keep trading favors, you’ll have a hard time getting rid of me.” You laughed.

He didn’t laugh, but looked thoughtful.

“What?” You asked.

“This doesn’t bother you?” He asked.

“This what?”

“_This_,” He said, shrugging the shoulder of the missing arm. “It seems to bother a lot of other people.”

“Well, no, it doesn’t bother me,” You said. “It shouldn’t bother any reasonable person.”

“I must not have met many reasonable people, then,” He murmured, likely to himself.

“It seems not,” You replied, and he looked at you. His face was blank and expressionless, but his eyes were alive with memory. “How… how did it happen?”

He was silent for a moment, staring at you seriously, his lips pressed into a frown.

“You don’t have to tell me, of course,” You said quickly, realizing you may have overstepped some boundary. You barely knew each other, after all.

Still, he stared at you silently. His eyes were far away, and you didn’t think he could see you anymore. He was back there, back in the space and time that you imagined haunted his dreams and made him toss and turn and lash out blindly in panic.

“It was just… it was just reconnaissance,” He said slowly, quietly. “Several farmers had come to us, asking for help. Bandits had been demanding protection money. We were just surveying the land between the properties, not expecting anything more than two or three. Someone in their group must have caught wind of us being there, because they sent their entire gang to face off with us. Fifty eight men against six of us.”

“Oh god,” You breathed. Even for fully armored, well trained orcs, fifty eight was too many.

“We fought them, of course,” He said. “But we were flagging. There were just too many. I was gaining ground on their leader, when this… _coward_, this absolute _fucking _coward, leaps down from a tree, surprising me, and swings his axe straight down onto my arm. The bone shattered in my flesh. It hung there, attached by fragments of skin and sinew, blood pouring from it. I… went into a rage… One handed, I cut through many of them, I don’t remember the exact number, but when I lost consciousness, at least a dozen lay dead at my feet and the rest were fleeing in terror.”

“Isn’t that good?” You asked. “Don’t orcs appreciate that kind of thing?”

“At first, yes,” He admitted. “I was heralded as a berserker, which is the highest title my clan can bestow upon a person. But then… the nightmares came. And the day terror. I couldn’t hear the swing of an axe or the sound of it connecting with another object without hitting the ground or sobbing. I began to lash out when people touched me. People’s praise became jeers. They laughed at me and began startling me on purpose, just to make me jump and cry.

“I stopped hunting and quit the scouting rounds. Others with lost limbs told me I was weak of mind and body, that I should be proud or grateful. My own family found me a disappointment and a burden. I just couldn’t get the sound out of my head. I couldn’t… stay. I couldn’t face them. Any of them. So I left everything I had behind and walked out of the stronghold, vowing never to return.”

“My god,” You said, your brows furrowed in horror.

“I am weak,” He whispered. “I’m a mere shadow of the orc I once was. You should have seen me in my prime. I was the pride of Red Ore. Now I’m a broken, faceless recluse that frightens the townspeople.”

“You’re not faceless,” You said, crouching next to him where he still sat on his bed. “And you’re not broken.”

“I am,” He said, wiping his eyes. “I am broken.”

“I’ve heard of this,” You told him. “Men who go to war and come back changed. They seem absent or upset all the time, it ruins their lives. Sometimes the things they see or the things that have been done to them, that they did to someone else, it makes them different people.”

“It’s not supposed to be that way for orcs,” He said. “We’re bred to be warriors. We shouldn’t be affected by that the way other races are. We’re supposed to be stronger. Better.”

“You’re still a person,” You replied. “Who you were born as doesn’t change the fact that you suffered a huge loss. You were in unimaginable pain and you lost control. I won’t say “it’s natural” because I don’t know much about orcs and I don’t know if it is natural for your kind or not. I do know that you have no reason to be ashamed.”

“That’s not for you to say,” He said, but he sounded sad rather than angry. You had gotten to the point were you expected angry from him. Sad completely disarmed you. You struggled with yourself for a moment before reaching out and laying a hand on his shoulder. He eyed you with suspicion but didn’t shake you off. You wondered how long it had been since someone had actually touched him with the intent to comfort, not to harm.

“Well,” You said, patting him lightly a couple of times before removing your hand. “You might be stuck with me a while. If you can get me on the roof, I can scout some breakfast. Small animals will be coming out of their dens to look for food now that the storm is over.”

“You don’t have to tell me that,” He said in irritation, his old gruffness returning. You took that as a good sign and smirk.

“Can you get me to the roof or not?”

Yeah, yeah,” He said, shrugging on his coat. “I’ll come up, too. I can see better at a distance that the average human does.”

“Suit yourself,” You replied.

Thankfully, he had pulled his ladder into the house and managed to wedge it against the ceiling and unbolt the small metal chimney. There was just enough room for the two of you to wiggle out of it and you both sat in the sunlight on the roof, waiting for passing game.

“You haven’t been here long,” He said absently. “Why did you come to this town?”

“Too much competition where I lived before,” You told him. “I was only one pair of hands and my shop was small. Another tailor set up shop across the way from me with a bigger store and several employees. I got squeezed out.”

“Ah,” He replied. He was scanning the treeline for movement.

“Did you leave any family behind?”

“I suppose,” He said heavily. “My mother and sisters. My husband.”

“Husband,” You said thoughtfully.

“Yeah, _husband_,” He repeated, an edge in his voice. “Is there a problem with that?”

“No, no, no problem at all!” You assured him. “I know some small town people have small minded ideas, but I’m not like that. Actually, I’m… I’m more like you.”

“...oh,” He replied. For a moment, the two of you were silent. “Did you leave someone behind to come here?”

“Yeah, my boyfriend. Well, _ex-_boyfriend,” You said a little bitterly.

“He didn’t want to come with you?”

“He was my competition.”

“Ohhhh. Ouch,” He said with sympathy.

“Yeah,” You said. “Used me to learn the trade and then used his family’s money to open his own shop. Ended a four year relationship and put me out of business in one fell swoop.”

“That’s rotten,” He said, grimacing.

“Yeah,” You agreed. “Betrayal wears many masks.”

“That’s the truth,” He said. You thought you saw a wisp of a rueful smile on his face. “One of the hardest parts of leaving was my littlest sister. She was just seven when I left. I was her hero; she looked up to me. She thought I was the best thing. I think she was really the only person who got it, you know? Because she was still just a kid. Kid’s get scared, even orc kids, but we train ourselves out of it by the time we become teenagers. But she got it. She was the only one who stuck up for me and never judged me.” He looked into the distance and sighed heavily. “I miss her.”

“You could write her a letter,” You offered.

He shook his head. “Nah, it’s been too much time. She’s nearly grown now and she’s likely thinks I’m a weakling, too.”

“You don’t know that,” You said.

“Maybe not, but I don’t want to find out,” He replied. He jerked his chin. “Over there, it’s a wild goat. That could last us a few days.”

You looked and he was right, there was a grey goat sniffing at the branches it couldn’t normally reach perhaps twenty yards away. As slowly and carefully as you could, you reached back into your quiver, nocked an arrow, and drew the string. Arkag was silent next to you, watching.

“A hair to the right,” He whispered.

You adjusted, exhaled, and released. The arrow caught the goat right at the base of the skull, severing the spinal cord cleanly.

“Nice shot,” Arkag said appraisingly. “Can you cross the snow to get it?”

“I can if I’m careful,” You said, handing the bow to Arkag and slowly lowering yourself onto the snowy floor of the meadow, which was barely a foot below the roof.

“I’m going to heat up some water,” He said. “You’ll have to skin the goat up here on the roof, otherwise the cottage will reek.”

“You don’t have to tell me that,” You said back in an imitation of his peevish tone, smirking. He narrowed his eyes at you and ducked back into the cottage.

It took you some time, but you managed to get the goat skinned and butchered, he’d roughly cut up some winter vegetables and thrown them into a pot on the grate. You laid strips of the meat onto the grate next to the pot to roast and threw one or two into the pot to flavor the vegetables.

“You don’t have any salt, do you?”

He scoffed. “Who can afford salt?”

You pressed your lips together and thought of your store of spices at home, forgetting what a luxury it usually was. You and your mother had scraped together every penny you earned to open a shop. She died before she could see the fruits of her labor, which is what made the loss of the first shop so galling. But you remembered buying your first real luxury items for your new place with the first amount of money you earned as a tailor, and one of the first things you bought was salt.

It seemed like a stupid thing to get nostalgic about right that moment, but you couldn’t help it. It had been just you and your mother for years, and losing her had been devastating. You couldn’t imagine losing an entire community. Salt must have been the last thing on Arkag’s mind.

The silence as the food cooked was companionable, and as you sat there, you realized he’d actually cleaned up a little while you’d been out. The dishes were clean and he’d made an effort to pick up the floor. You smiled a little.

“What?” He asked. Apparently he noticed you looking around.

“This is actually pretty cozy when it’s picked up,” You said.

“Yeah,” He replied. “I was a little surprised when the town council offered it to me. They said as long as I kept it up, it was mine. They couldn’t rent or sell it, apparently, since lots of folks think it’s haunted. It had been moldering out here for years.”

“Is it haunted?”

“Besides by a surly grump of an orc, not really.”

“So you admit to being a surly grump?”

“When did I ever deny it?”

You laughed, and he smiled slightly. He had a nice face when he wasn’t snarling sourly at you. You caught yourself staring at him and shook yourself, turning back to cooking the meal.

He had bowls but no silverware, preferring just to slurp his food from the dish. You remembered you kept a traveling spoon in your pack, and while searching for it, you found a measuring tape. As a tailor, it was pretty much second nature to throw one in your pack.

“Ah!” You exclaimed. “Well, I can take your measurements for your outfits while I’m here.”

For the first time, he looked uncertain and a little shy.

“Oh, no, really, you don’t have to go to that much trouble…” He stuttered.

“It’s no trouble! It’s what I do!” You insisted. “Literally my job. You’ve been bringing me wood since I moved here, you’re letting me stay here, feeding me, being some kind of company. You didn’t kick me out at least. A couple of shirts and pants, maybe a belt, it’s nothing. I’m happy to do it.”

“Well… thanks…” He said slowly. “Can I finish my breakfast first?”

“Yeah, sure. We’ve got plenty of time.”

After breakfast, you instructed him to stand straight so that you could start measuring his chest and arm for the shirt. Immediately, you ran into a problem.

“You need to take your shirt off,” You told him.

“What?” He said in surprise. Well, _yelped _would be more accurate.

“Your shirt is too big for you and it’s throwing my measurements off,” You told him. “If I don’t get precise measurements, the shirts won’t fit properly. I can try with the current measurements, but I might end up cutting the cloth too small and wasting three yards of fabric and a day’s worth of work.”

He seemed to contemplate for a moment before coughing self-consciously and unbuttoning the top button.

“Would you prefer a pull-over instead of buttons?” You asked as he handed you the oversized, rather grimy shirt.

“Uh… yeah, sure.” He looked over his shoulder at you as you stretched the tape from his neck, down his spine, to his waist. “Shouldn’t you be writing this down?”

“Nope,” You told him, measuring from shoulder to wrist. “Mind like a steel trap. I’ve always been that way. I can tell you the inseam of every man and every waist band of every woman in town.”

“You’re not going to make me take off my pants to get the inseam, are you?” He asked dubiously.

You snorted. “Not unless you want to take them off.” You were only half joking; you couldn’t help but notice how sculpted his shoulders were, and the form of his muscles in the back of his arms. You tried not to linger longer than was necessary, but the urge to massage the knots out of the muscles was pretty overwhelming.

You finished the measurements and made a mental note of which bolts and dyes to pick out when you got back to the shop. You thought he’d look amazing in a soft down color and hunter green.

As you were putting the tape away, Arkag put his shirt back on and began inspecting the wood store inside the house.

“So we have a problem,” He said. “We’ve got enough wood inside to keep up the fire till morning if we’re conservative. Problem is, the rest of it is buried under four feet of snow outside. We could cut off branches of some of the nearby trees that we can get to safely, but it’ll take up to a day for it to dry enough to burn.”

“That is a problem,” You said. “What should we do?”

He pulled on his coat. “Keep warm as best we can in the meantime. Hopefully the snow will melt in a day or two, but if it doesn’t, we may have to make a break for town, which will be dangerous.” He looked at the fire, contemplative. “Or you could go on without me and leave me here. Safer if it’s just one.”

“Not necessarily,” You said. “I might be lighter than you, but if I accidentally step wrong, I get buried and no one will find me until the snow clears. Besides, don’t go thinking I’d ever leave you here to freeze. I was hoping you were starting to think of me as a friend, at least.”

He looked up at you curiously. “At least?”

You looked away. “We should go ahead and cook the rest of the meat before we run out of wood. Eating it raw won’t be much fun.”

You’d gone out with his hand saw while he grilled the rest of the goat’s meat. You managed to find some decent sized branches that were relatively dry and hauled them back to the cottage. They’d still need to dry out next to the fire for a while before they would burn without filling the cottage with smoke.

The rest of the day was manageable since you both were focused on the tasks of saving and conservation, but the night’s temperature dropped dramatically and laying still for sleep did nothing to stave off the cold. Thankfully the weather stayed clear, though it didn’t stop the chill from creeping into the cottage and settling into your bones. Your coat kept you perfectly warm most of the time, but it didn’t seem to be doing the job now as you lay on the ground with your head against your pack, trying and failing to sleep.

“Are you awake?” Arkag called from across the room on his sleeping pallet.

“Yeah,” You said. “Why are you?”

“It’s too cold,” He grumbled. “I’m almost thinking about throwing the last log on the fire.” He was silent for a moment. “Do you… um… want to come here? It makes more sense for us to share heat than use up all our fuel.”

Your heart began to beat faster. “Yeah, sure.”

You got up and crossed the room, taking off your coat as he raised his up to give you room next to him. After laying your coat on top of his to double the cover, you slid underneath the fabric and next to his body. Oh gods, he was warm. He was purposefully not touching you, but you were close enough to feel the heat radiating off of him. It was already so much better than sleeping by yourself.

“This was a good idea,” You said quietly. You were both on your sides, facing each other but not looking at each other. You moved slightly closer and your arm brushed his chest. He inhaled deeply and sighed.

“I feel warm,” He replied.

You laughed a little. “That was the point, right?”

“It’s not that,” He said, his voice a little distant. “I’ve felt cold for years, even in the summer. This is the first time in a long time I’ve felt warmth inside my body, not just outside of it.”

It took you a second to reply. “Is that good or bad?”

“I don’t know,” He admitted. “Look at me.”

Your eyes had been trained on his collarbone as it curved into his shoulders, but you looked up into his brown eyes. He was looking at you appraisingly, his eyes flitting and dancing across your face, studying it up close for the first time.

He seemed hesitant to make a move, so you moved first. You stretched up and your lips captured his, kissing lightly at first in case you’d misread the situation and he wanted to pull away. He didn’t; in fact he deepened the kiss and threw his arm around you, pulling out tightly against his chest. You threw your arms around his neck and he rolled on top of you.

You weren’t sure what this would be in the morning, since he had just as many trust issues as you and way more trauma, but you knew this is what you wanted right at this moment. You were sure, sane, and stone-cold sober, and you wanted Arkag more than anything.

Carefully, the two of you began to shed clothes under the makeshift blankets made up of your coats. You were both shaking, but not from the cold. It had been a while for you, and even longer for him. The desire was manifesting physically.

He nipped at your neck as you ran your fingers through his hair. You could feel his cock hardening and filling out on your stomach, twitching in anticipation. Blindly, you grabbed for the strap of your pack and pulled out a jar of blended chamomile oil and rosehip salve you used on your hands after handling the chemicals to make leather, which could make your skin chap and crack. You scooped up a little into your hand and reached between the two of you while he sucked on your collarbone, rubbing the salve mixture into the skin of his member, and he groaned against you.

“Turn over,” He breathed into the skin of your chest, and you complied, spreading your legs so that he could kneel between them. He reached and dipped a finger in your jar of salve and massages it into your pucker, slowly inserting his finger with his front pressed against your back. You gripped the furs underneath you as he slowly pressed the tip of himself against you, gently applying pressure until the head popped in. He exhaled in relief as he eased inside you all the way, putting his arm under your chin and gripping your opposite shoulder, holding you close as best as he was able.

His length glided across the sensitive bundle of nerves inside you and you whimpered piteously.

“Faster,” You choked out. He sped up, his lips against your ear, his frenetic breathing. You held onto his bicep with one hand, and the other reached underneath you to fondle yourself. You turned your head to kiss his cheek, his tusk, and your lips connected again, holding on as he moved inside of you.

He was pent up, and it didn’t take long before he was at his peak, grunting as he came inside.

“Sorry,” He wheezed. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay,” You said, kissing him and pushing him onto his back. He was still hard, so you lowered yourself onto him again, riding him and kissing his bare chest. He took you in his hand and pumped you as you rode him. You couldn’t feel the cold anymore. You couldn’t feel anything but his hand on you and his body beneath you. The combination of pressure from him being inside you with the sweet sensation of him pleasuring you made you rush to your own wave of ecstasy headlong, and you cried out as you came over his stomach, chest, and hand. You collapsed onto his chest, and the two of you gulped down breaths, trying to recover.

Slowly the cold crept back in, and before your heart slowed, you got up and dipped a clean cloth in the pot of warm water sitting close, but not too close, to the dwindling fire. After cleaning the two of you up, you lay back down beside him. He put his arm around you, his forehead against the top of your head. Warmth melted into every corner of your body in and you fell asleep almost immediately.

The next morning, to your surprise, the snow had melted enough for you to make it home safely. Arkag looked discomforted.

“Well,” He said slowly. “You’re free to leave now. Nothing keeping you here anymore.”

“Hmm,” You hummed. “That’s true. But your firewood is wet. I have dry firewood at my house. We could have breakfast there. I think I still have some eggs left.”

He looked at you as if struggling with himself. “People will see me.”

“So?”

He cleared his throat. “People will see_ you _with me.”

“So?” You repeated.

“That doesn’t bother you?”

You sighed sadly. “Last night wasn’t out of convenience, Arkag. I like you. I don’t care if people see us together. And you shouldn’t either. People only say your creepy because you creep around like a shadow. They’d like you if they got to know you.”

“You’re assuming much,” He said, scratching his short hair.

“Try it,” You said. “Come home with me. You’ll still have your cottage for when you need time alone, but come and stay with me, at least until winter is done. This cottage gets too cold at night.”

You held out your hand, and Arkag, after a few seconds hesitation, took it with a slight smile.

“I guess I can’t argue with that.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arkag has trouble accepting the new role in the reader's life, but when a child in the village becomes trapped under a rock fall, he'll have to overcome his own feelings to help her.

It took four months, but you finally convinced Arkag to move into your much larger shophouse with you. He decided to keep the cabin, though. It was still hard for him to be in the town proper, since he’d lived out in the middle of the forest for years. In addition to his regular woodcutting job, you were slowly reintroducing him to regular society by having him help with the tanning, with which he had a ton of experience. It gave you much more time to finish sewing, and the two of you worked as a team.

Nights together were hot and heavy, and it was better and more satisfying than any of your previous partners. Arkag was not only really good at it, but he loved to talk to you for a long time afterward and cuddle you close to him while he did. He was probably the most talkative when he was in bed than he was anywhere else.

It wasn’t complete bliss, however. The flashbacks took him without warning, usually set off by a sound. The night terrors were worse. He often lashed out in his sleep, inadvertently hurting you once or twice. He was apologetic and guilt ridden whenever this happened, and you had to convince him not to leave and retreat to his cabin. His healing was a process, and there would be bumps, you told him. He always nodded when you said that, but he never seemed convinced.

He was his surliest whenever you came back from hunting. When you returned from your trips out to the woods, whether alone or with a party, he became quiet and distant for a day before returning to his normal self.

One night after coming back, he was standoffish and slept in a spare room. The next morning, you confronted him.

“Why did you sleep in the storage room last night?” You asked him over breakfast. “What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing,” He said grumpily. “I just wanted space.”

“Arkag, you’re a creature of habit if ever I knew one,” You said, setting down your spoon. “You only sleep in the storage room when I go hunting. Why? What is it about hunting that pisses you off so much?”

“It’s _nothing_,” Arkag repeated repressively.

“I don’t believe you,” You said in frustration. “Does me hunting bother you? I’d say that I’d stop hunting, but I can’t. It’s where the majority of our meat and leather comes from. Buying it from a butcher would be too expensive.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing,” Arkag insisted.

You scoffed. “If you have to say ‘it’s nothing,’ that means there_ is _something. Just tell me! I want to help.”

“Just leave me alone!” Arkag said, raising his voice. “I don’t need to share everything with you. Sometimes I just want to be alone! Is that too much to ask!”

“Well, no, of course not!” You assured him. “I just… I love you, Arkag. I just wanted you to know you could come to me with anything that’s bothering you. You’re my partner.”

Arkag snorted. “I’m your employee.”

He said this in an undertone, perhaps thinking you wouldn’t hear him, but you had gotten used to Arkag’s quiet mumblings to the point that you could understand most of it.

“What did you just say?” You asked, shocked. “What do you mean, you’re my employee? What are you talking about?”

“Face reality,” Arkag snarled, standing up from the table and turning to look out the window, avoiding your eye. “I work in_ your _shop, I live in _your _house, I eat _your_ food. _You_ cook the meals, _you _make my clothes,_ you _create the products we sell, _you_ hunt our meat,_ you _earn our living. I do the wood and tanning, but it’s not nearly enough to contribute or provide for the both of us. I could barely support myself. I’m a burden to you.”

“What? No, you’re not! I don’t care if you can provide--”

“_I do!_” Arkag shouted, throwing a mug against the wall and shattering it. “An orc provides! It’s what we do! If we can’t fight, if we can’t protect, we provide! I have nothing to offer you! I’m worth nothing!”

“Arkag, that’s not true! I don’t need you to provide for me! I can provide for myself! I can provide for both of us, and I’m happy to do it! All I want in return is love!”

“You don’t understand! How could you! You’re…” He stopped, scowling and biting his lip.

“I’m what? I’m what, Arkag?” You asked him. “Human? I can’t understand because I’m human? Is that what you’re going to say?”

“It’s not because you’re human,” He said, his voice shaking. “It’s because you’re whole.”

“You’re not broken, Arkag,” You said, but he interrupted you.

“What do you know!” He pushed past you and shrugged on his coat, stomping outside and toward his cottage.

“Fine!” You called after him. “Come back when your pride stops doing your thinking for you!” And you slammed the door after him.

When you stopped being mad, you felt guilty. He was right; there was no way you could begin to fathom what things he had been through since he lost his arm. You knew he’d been ridiculed to the point of exile from his stronghold, was a transient begging by the road side for a time, and then spent around a decade alone in the woods. The mental and emotional toll from not only the trauma of the injury, but also his treatment by his peers and the rough living he’d endure since, must have been terrible.

You sighed. You were walking a fine edge with Arkag. One the one hand, you desperately wanted to help him and you knew that if you left him to his own devices, it’s likely he’d never let himself heal, but pushing him to deal with his problems made him lash out or retreat. His emotional growth was severely stunted, and you knew that.

On the other hand, he couldn’t use his condition or past as an excuse to push you away or act however he liked. His night terrors and flashbacks were one thing; he couldn’t control them. Being an ass for the sake of being an ass was another. His pride was halting any progress he could have been making.

You just wished you knew what to do to help him, but you weren’t sure what else you could do but accept him and be patient.

However, your patience was wearing thin when he didn’t return in three days, so you went out to the cabin to talk to him. He didn’t answer after the first three knocks, but you knew he was in there because you could hear shuffling and the fire was going.

“Let me in, Arkag!” You shouted through the door. “I know you’re in there! I’m not angry anymore, and you can sleep in the spare room all you like. Can we just talk?”

The door opened slowly and Arkag stepped out, closing the door behind him.

“Are you coming back with me?” You asked him. “Good, I was going to make dinner.”

“No, I’m not,” He said. “You’re right, we should talk.”

That didn’t sound good. “Alright. I wanted--”

“No, please,” He said. “Let me go first, or I don’t know if I’ll be able to get it out.”

The bad feeling was getting worse. “Alright, then.”

“Listen,” He started slowly, not meeting your eye. “I think I should move back out here. I’m not being of much help in the shop.”

“What are you talking about? Of course you are. Besides, you don’t have to work in the shop if you don’t want to,” You told him.

“No, I know that, I just think it’s better if I came back out here. Life in town doesn’t suit me.”

“If that’s what you want, of course,” You said, swallowing the lump in your throat. “If it helps you, I don’t mind coming out every day after work to see you.”

“No…” He said, his voice wavering. “You shouldn’t come out here anymore, either.”

“But,” You said with a small, nervous laugh. “How will we see each other?”

He said your name softly, with grave intent, and you knew.

This was it. It was over.

“I’m sorry,” He said with finality, and went back inside, closing the door gently.

You stood there for a full five minutes, staring at the door, listening to the fire crackling inside. You hadn’t heard his footsteps walk away, so he was likely still just on the other side of the door, either waiting for some kind of reaction or for you to leave. You stood your ground, hoping he might come back out and say he hadn’t meant it, that he was just confused and hurting and that he still loved you. But it didn’t happen. Blinded by tears, you finally turned, stumbled off his porch, and began the lonely walk back to your home.

The next month was rough. You stopped taking orders and it took you double the time to finish the ones you already had. Business was suffering, but you didn’t care. You weren’t eating well, and even though you spent a lot of time in bed, you didn’t sleep much. It didn’t help that he still left you firewood in the middle of the night, only twice as much as usual. It was like he was trying to apologize the only way he knew how, but it was just a reminder that he wasn’t there anymore and seeing it every morning just reopened the wound over and over again.

Sometimes, when you were awake at night, you’d hear him leaving the wood and moving on. You had the idea, more than once, to confront him and force him to talk to you, but you knew that wouldn’t solve anything. He would just resent you for ambushing and pressuring him.

You’d had breakups before. This wasn’t like those. This felt like a fragment of your soul was just… gone. A piece of you was missing, but you felt heavy at the same time. The bed was too big for you now. The house was too quiet. There was too much… empty space. The silence of the home pressed into your ears and was excruciating.

The second month was slightly easier, but you were still miserable. You remembered you had a glove you were working on for him. After you finished it, you considered delivering it yourself, but decided to hire a runner to do it instead. Seeing him would hurt too much.

Another month passed, and you knew his birthday was coming up. You counted down the days, and with each day that passed, you wondered if you should make him something or even acknowledge it in any way. When the day came, you made a small cake, but couldn’t bring yourself to eat it. It sat on the dining table until it began to mold.

Five, six, seven months on, and your thoughts still revolved around him in all things. Everything you saw, heard, smelled, reminded you of him. You worried about his state of mind during thunderstorms. During sleepless evenings, you wondered if his night terrors were getting bad again. You stopped eating radishes, something you previously loved, because you knew he hated them.

Life slowly got back to normal. After taking your time off, you got back to work. Winter was fast approaching and you had a lot of orders for new coats. You missed Arkag’s help, but you had always managed before he came along, and as much as you wished it were different, you would manage again.

There was a commotion on the edge of town one day as you were making a delivery: three children ran out of the woods screaming over each other. You stopped them as they nearly streaked past you.

“What’s going on?”

“My sister!” One of them shouted. “We were playing in a shallow cave nearby and it fell in! She’s trapped inside!”

“You two!” You pointed to the others. “Go find help! You!” You said to the brother. “Show me where!”

The two other children ran in the opposite direction as the brother led you to the collapsed cave. You could hear a child crying inside.

“What’s her name?” You asked the boy.

“Eida!” He said, crying.

“Eida!” You called. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“My arm!” She screamed. “My arm is pinned! Help me!”

“Hold on, honey, help is coming!” You cried, starting to move stones out of the way.

“Please don’t let me die!” She sobbed.

“I won’t, honey. I promise I’m going to help you, alright? Hang in there with me. Stay with me!”

The young boy helped by chucking rocks more his size and digging furiously. Several more people from town, including the girl’s mother and father, arrived and began digging, all while the girl under the rubble wailed in pain. The work was slow, fearing that any wrong step or moving the wrong stone would cause the cavity within where the girl was would fall farther, crushing her altogether.

It seemed like hours, but her head was finally uncovered. She was bloodied, but it didn’t appear as if she had a severe head wound. Her mother held her other hand, the one that wasn’t pinned, and whispered assurances to her that she would be alright. Her father was stroking her hair, sobbing along with her.

A few of the volunteers tried to pull her, but as she shrieked in agony, you screamed, “No! Don’t! She’s pinned!”

“Help me! Help me, please! I’m dying!” She cried.

“You’re not going to die, darling,” You told her. “We’re right here, we’ll get you out, I promise. You’re not going to die.” 

Her right side was uncovered, but her left was still trapped. Her arm wasn’t visible under the rocks. As they moved the rocks out of the way, they finally got her free… except for her arm. The largest of the rocks was on her arm, and it wasn’t budging. Moreover, every time they tried to move it, she screamed as if she were being murdered.

“We can’t shift it,” One of the men said frantically. “It’s too heavy. She has to lose her arm.”

The crying became more terrified, and you cuffed the man on the ear.

“Nice job, asshole!” You hissed. You looked around you. “Has anyone seen the physician?”

“He wasn't at home when we went to call on him,” Another man said.

“Check again!” You said, taking off. “I’m going to get help!”

You ran through the woods at a full sprint, ignoring the thin branches whipping your face and cutting your skin, vaulting over roots and logs. Soon, the familiar, sweet sight of Arkag’s cabin came into view. You could smell wood burning and saw smoke in the chimney.

You jumped up the steps and banged on his door.

“Arkag!” You shouted, using both fists to rattle the door on it’s frame. “Arkag! Help!”

The door was yanked open and Arkag stood there. He looked disheveled and smelled like he hadn’t bathed in a while; you didn’t care, the sight of him was like a balm for your soul. But you didn’t have time to revel in it.

“What are you doing here?” He asked. “What’s happened?”

“Hurry, we need your help,” You said. “A girl was caught in a rock fall. Her arm has been pinned under a boulder and the other men and I can’t shift it. You’re the strongest man in town. Please come and help her.”

“I…” He gulped and looked away from you. “I don’t think I can.”

You grabbed his collar and forced him to look at you, your face more fierce and angry as it had ever been.

“This is not about you, Arkag,” You told him. “A girl is bleeding to death under a boulder in the woods and we need your help to save her life. Are you going to let her die because you can’t see past your pride?”

He seemed at war with himself, his jaw working, his tusks pressing into his top lip enough to leave an indentation. His face hardened; not in anger but resolve. He shoved his feet into his boots and followed you outside.

“Show me,” He said.

The two of you sprinted back to the rock slide. The people were still there, trying to think up a way to remove the rock, having strung a rope harness across it and trying to find a strong branch to use as a counterpoint. The crying from the girl was getting thinner and more labored.

“Don’t bother with the rope!” Arkag said. “We don’t need to lift it all the way up! We just need to budge it enough to pull her out! The mother, father! When I say, get ready to get her clear!”

The two of them nodded grimly with tears on their faces. The physician had arrived and was assisting the parents in soothing Eida and assessing her other injuries. He waited on his heels, ready to pounce on her arm wound as soon as the rock was off to stem the flow of blood. The likelihood of Eida going into shock was extraordinarily high.

“Everyone get to one side,” Arkag said, bracing his entire left side against the rock and placing his only hand against its surface. “One! Two! _Push!_”

The people put their full weight into pushing the rock, and, combined with Arkag’s superior orc strength, the boulder moved just enough to snatch the girl out from under it. Her cries rose anew as the jostling and rush of blood back into her arm caused the nerves to reawaken. She was taken away to the physician’s office with a quick step, and the ones who were there who had been helping stood looking at each other, unsure what to do now.

“Drinks?” You offered.

They all nodded both tiredly and enthusiastically and followed you to the pub.

“You too, Arkag,” You said. “You’ve earned a drink.”

He hesitated. “Are you sure?”

You nodded. “Come on.”

There were about thirty of you that trudged into the pub, making the barkeep look up in surprise.

“A round on me,” You told him, pushing whatever gold you had in your pocket across the bar. “They’ve all earned it.”

His eyes widened and he nodded, starting to pour mugs two at a time and quickly dispersing them. Arkag took his, downed it quickly, looked around uncomfortably, and headed for the exit.

“Hey,” You called after him.

He stopped and turned toward you, his face hard to read.

“Thanks. For coming.”

He nodded, hesitated another minute, and left.

A few days later, Eida’s father, Daniel, walked into your shop.

“Hello, sir!” You said, dropping what you’re doing. “How can I help you? How’s young Eida?”

“Actually, that’s why I’m here,” He said gravely. “I’m afraid she has lost her right arm above the elbow. The physician said there was no saving it.”

“Oh, my god,” You breathed. “I’m so sorry. How is she holding up?”

“Not well, I fear,” He said. “She’s rather despairing at the moment. She keeps saying that she’s useless and that no man will ever love her. She’s naught but thirteen, but she’s at the age where a girl begins to plan for her future, of course. She can’t imagine finding work in her situation.”

“That’s not true at all,” You said. “There’s plenty of one handed jobs out there. A person could even sew one-handed, and I should know.”

“My wife and I keep trying to tell her that, but she won’t listen to us,” He replied. “I was wondering… that orc fellow who helped us. He’s your friend, right?”

You swallowed a little, but nodded. “Yes.”

“Do you think you could convince him to come and talk to her?” Daniel asked. “He’s a capable man, and I think if she sees someone who’s like her and is self-sufficient, she may not be so hard on herself. I’d go and talk to him myself, but he seems a taciturn fellow and I don’t know if he’d appreciate my visit.”

“I… could certainly try,” You said slowly. “He is a man who likes his space and privacy, but I could try.”

“I would greatly appreciate that, sir,” Daniel said. “I’ll leave you to your work. Thank you for your help.”

“Of course,” You said, and bid him a good day as he left.

Putting down your work, you stood but didn’t leave immediately. You had to steel yourself to see him again. Last time was an emergency and you didn’t have time to deal with your feelings on the matter, but this was different. This would be the first time you talked to him, really talked, in months. You didn’t know how well you’d be able to keep your emotions in check.

Once you reached the clearing that housed his cabin, you found him already outside, chopping wood, having not noticed you. You halted in your steps for a moment, watching him work, marveling at his strength. Then, you took a breath and started forward.

“Arkag,” You said. He was just about to raise the axe when he stopped and looked around at you.

“Oh,” He said softly. “I… I wasn’t expecting you.”

“No, I know, I’m sorry,” You replied. “Daniel, Eida’s father, asked me to come and speak to you.”

“Why?” He asked, setting the axe aside.

You sighed. “Eida has lost her arm.”

“...oh,” He replied, his face distant.

“She’s apparently extremely depressed, saying that she’ll never find work or love, that she’s useless. He wants you to tell her that that isn’t true.”

“I don’t know if I’m the best person to do that,” Arkag said, scratching his neck and looking away.

“Why not?” You asked him. “You have work. It’s modest, but it’s a living. You can take care of yourself. You’re not useless. And as far as love... well…” You shrugged, also looking away. “You know you had that.”

He didn’t answer, and you didn’t look up.

“Just talk to her,” You said, backing away. “I don’t know if you’ll be of any help, but you could try. Don’t take this the wrong way, but maybe you could take a few minutes and think about someone besides yourself.”

Before he could answer, you turned and jogged back toward the trail leading to your home.

Late that night, after you had gone to bed, you heard a loud knocking at your door. On edge, you got up and opened the door to find Arkag standing there. He was pale and looked like he had been crying.

“Can I come in?” He asked plaintively.

“Yes, of course, come in,” You said. “What’s wrong?”

“I talked to Eida,” He said as he came in and sat down at the dining table. “We talked for hours. I told her about how I lost my arm, about the night terrors and flashbacks. About the struggles I’ve had since. I don’t know why I did that, and I thought she’d have been terrified by it, but she seemed… I don’t know, relieved?”

“She’s relieved because she’s not alone, Arkag,” You said, sitting with him.

He wiped his eyes. “I suppose you’re right. We cried together. She asked if she had a bad dream or a flashback, if she could come and talk to me about it. No one’s ever asked me that before. I don’t know why it made me feel better, but it did.”

“That’s good, Arkag,” You said. “That’s very good. But… if you don’t mind my asking, why did you come here to tell me about it? And in the middle of the night.”

He took a big breath and let it out slowly. “We talked about you, too. She asked if anyone had ever loved me like this,” He shrugged his missing arm. “And I said yes. She asked me why we weren’t still together… and I couldn’t answer her. I wanted to believe it’s because the answer was too complicated to explain… but it wasn’t.” His eyes filled with tears as he looked up at you. “I made a mistake. I’m so sorry. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I’m so, so sorry.”

You began to cry, as well. Your heart raced in your chest as you stood up, pulled him from his seat, and kissed him full on the mouth. He reciprocated, putting his hand in your hair and kissing you between sobs.

“I made a cake for your birthday,” You told him. “But I couldn’t eat it.”

He laughed through his tears. “I always left you more firewood than anyone else.I just… wanted to make sure you had enough.”

“I know,” You said, taking him by the hand. “Come on.”

You took him into the bedroom and spent many tender moments undressing him, peppering his skin with kisses. He returned the favor and turned you, kissing the back of your neck and down your spine. He massaged the muscles of your shoulders and buttocks with his hand before going into the night table to grab the bottle of oil that was always there. He uncorked it and drizzled a little in his palm one-handed, reached between your spread legs and stroked it into the skin of your cock, making you grip the sheets.

He teased your pucker with a single finger, rubbing it around and up and down before slowly sinking it inside, and you groaned against the bedding. After a few minutes of playing with you, he slicked himself down and before he entered you, he bent down so that his front was pressed against your back. You turned your head and kissed him as he pushed himself inside.

It had been a while, and you were both pent up. It didn’t take long at all before you were both a mess. He came so hard that he roared, and you painted the floor in your own release. He didn’t stop, though; he slowed for a moment before regaining his pace, and the two of you made love again and again.

Neither of you got much sleep, but it was a deep, sweet exhaustion that overtook you both as dawn crept into the windows.

Later, after a much needed nap, the two of you awoke in each other’s arms. Arkag’s nose was in your hair, breathing steadily, but you could tell he was awake.

“I had an idea,” You said. “What if we apprenticed Eida? You could teach her tanning, and I could teach her the methods and means of being a tailor. There’s much of this job one can do with only one hand, and there’s no reason she couldn’t hire an assistant if she were to branch out on her own. What do you think?”

“I think that’s an amazing idea,” He said. “Gods know what I could have done if I had had that kind of support when I lost my arm. We can do for her what no one did for me.”

The two of you spoke to Eida the next day, and though she was dubious about her ability to learn with her disability, she agreed. It took her a few months to heal, during which time you and Arkag solidified your union by getting married.

After she was mended, she began spending her days in the shop, learning to sew one-handed and assisting Arkag with the tanning. Arkag no longer got jealous or resentful when you went hunting, as he had Eida to occupy his time. Eida began calling the both of you Uncle after some time.

Arkag enjoyed teaching Eida so much that he actually brought up the subject of adopting a child. You were delighted with the idea, and after a trip to Coleville, the two of you came home with a lizardfolk girl named Cinna who had lost both her tail and her parents in a similar accident as Eida, and had severe balance problems. She and Eida got along swimmingly. After a year, you and Arkag adopted another child, a blind gnoll boy called Jotak.

You had a loving husband who was learning to love himself through helping others, a business that was booming, and two beautiful children. You couldn’t imagine life being any more complete than it was right at that moment, and for all the rest of your moments.


End file.
